Taking Over Me
by BrilliantGreenEyes
Summary: ON PERMANENT HIATUS. My take on Vlad and Snow's relationship post TGB. AU for EGB, but later elements might come into play. Rated T for language and slight gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Taking Over Me**

_I have to be with you to live, to breathe--  
you're taking over me!  
_

* * *

Slinking into the darkened alley like a criminal who doesn't want to be seen, he steps into the weak lamplight and leans against the crumbling brick wall. Waiting.

He is so very thirsty, something that still, bagged blood cannot satiate. He wants--_needs--_the warm lifeblood of a living donor. Somewhere, deep down, he realizes that he doesn't have to live like this, that he can refuse. But the craving, the sheer bloodlust is too strong. He will take her blood tonight.

He feels the sharp, gleaming fangs extend with the sound of her blood pounding in her delicious body. He has become more aware of her presence now that she has become his regular donor. He could pick her out of a crowd of a thousand beating hearts if it was wanted. He knows her body, her mind, her _blood _better than any one person's. Better than his best friend's.

His heart wrenches at this thought, but he is becoming more adept at ignoring those feelings, the guilt. If he wasn't so _damn _thirsty, he'd probably begin to cry, but the lust is too strong, and he pulls on her arm, drawing her closer.

"Snow," he breathes, before kissing her full on the mouth. He finds that kissing is an easier introduction than simply sinking his teeth deep into her neck. She responds back; he hears, smells, and _feels _her heartbeat increase. He cries out, for the pain of resisting is too much. He reaches her vein simply by familiarity, and--just before he bites--he kisses her gently, the sweetest kiss imaginable. Her heart races even faster, and she's breathing so sweetly…

"Oh!" she whispers. But he barely hears her through the delight of drinking her blood. Sweeter than any blood from any bag--AB negative, he guesses--and warmer and more full of life than anything he'd ever tasted. Every time he takes from her, it's a new experience. She's simply that delicious, that delectable. The monster inside of him roars in sheer happiness, and he bites deeper, hearing--not caring--that her once strong heartbeat is now a mere dull flicker.

Somewhere, deep down, he knows he should stop. He _must. _But the monster is in control now, and the boy who was Vladimir Tod has been shoved down to the deepest depths of his heart--away in a corner--watching as the beautiful, kind Goth girl is dying in his arms.

And the beast relishes it. _Loves _it. This is not the first time he's gone too far, but the first time that he cannot get back to himself. The fear is almost too much, and he nearly fades away, like the girl slumped in his arms. But he finds newfound strength, and he pushes his way in control. He withdraws his fangs from her neck, and licks the droplets of blood away from his lips.

"Snow!" he says again. However--this time--his voice is not quivering because of bloodlust, but in fear. And horror, that he could have done this. That he had. Her face--which normally would have been a shade of ivory, with a rosy blush--is ashen and grey. She looks awful. She looks dead.

He momentarily panics. He has killed her. A living human being, simply for the satiating satisfaction of her blood. Tears sting at the corners of his eyes, and a few sad droplets leak down his face, dripping onto her black Evanescence shirt.

After a few guilty seconds, he rights himself and realizes that her heartbeat still lingers, that she is still alive. He does not know what he would do if she was really dead. He doesn't want to know. She stirs in his arms, and he starts. Although she is still merely semi-conscious, she manages to speak.

"Vlad? Vlad, what…oh, God, what a headache." Her hand, pale and fluttering like a baby bird, goes to her temple. Then to her neck. "Ow."

Hardly daring to look, he sees a bruise. It is dark and purplish-black, easily noticeable on her pale neck. Without really noticing what he is doing, he brushes her hair back across her shoulders, covering the disfiguring mark.

He doesn't want to tell her what he has done as he sets her unsteadily on the ground. He doesn't want her to know his shame. But it seems she already knows as she stares up at him with knowing eyes.

"You went too far again, didn't you." It is not a question. She is smarter than she lets on.

"I'm so sorry, Snow," he begs, feeling his knees collapse on him. "I-I…Oh, God, I don't have an explanation." Because that is the truth. "I'm a monster," he whispers.

She kneels down next to him, getting her blue-and-black tights dirty in the old rainwater sitting in a puddle. "It's not your fault," she soothes. "I agreed to this. I should know the risks."

"But I should be more careful," he sobs. "God, I _hate_ myself sometimes." He wishes there was some way he could go back to the old routine of bagged hospital blood. But the idea of the nearly-stale, unmoving liquid nearly sends him gagging.

"And you can't go back," she acknowledges. It is as if she is reading his mind.

He shakes his head furiously. He has buried his face in his arms, refusing to look at her. Because if he did, he'd still see the dark bruise that lingered on her neck, even if it was hidden behind curtains of hair. And then he feels angry. Irrationally so. His belly is full, his heart is aching, and his brain is telling him to run.

So he does.

"Don't follow me," he says hoarsely, knowing that without the direct order, she would. With one last bittersweet kiss, they part. He runs off, feeling the shame and the prickly beginnings of the monster hidden deep within his chest.

* * *

**_A/N: _**so.... how was it? i just had this idea after reading _Tenth Grade Bleeds _the other night, and it just wouldn't go away. the whole idea of him and snow, the donor/vampire relationship is intriguing to me... anyways, you know the drill. comments = blood-chip cookies. DELICIOUS!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Auntie Heather owns it ALL.

**A/N: **thank you so much to my reviewers, all five of you... :] you guys have motivated me to write the next chapter in vlad and snow's lives/relationship/whatever the heck is it that they have. i hope this satisfies you guys, 'cause with maybe, ten more reviews, i'll do another chapter if you want... anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Two weeks have passed. Vlad has avoided the dark club as best as he can. But his hunger is growing. Like a horrible monster, it has returned with a frightening vengeance. Clawing at his belly, pulling at his veins. He has not slept in a week; deep bruises encircle his eyes.

Nelly is concerned, and he doesn't blame her. She thinks it's some sort of vampiric flu, and warns his uncle to keep a distance. Even the extra helpings of the old blood in his tomato soup aren't helping. Nothing can. He wants to stop the craving, the desire, the _need _for her pulsing blood.

But his hunger grows. And he's beginning to lose control; lose himself.

It never used to be like this. Two weeks used to be _fine. _Every two weeks, he would meet her in the alley behind the Crypt, and they'd talk, kiss a little. Eventually he'd feed, being careful. He never wanted to go back to that dark place, where the monster had more control than he did, like last time.

He's going back tonight, and a large part of him is thankful; he doesn't know how much longer he can last on the bagged blood, when sweet relief is just in his reach. Another part of him, though, is wary. He doesn't want a repeat of Last Time, but he's so _thirsty, _and it's all he can do not to feed off of Nelly, when she pops into his room to check up.

At long last, the sun sets, and his math homework is finished. He sits up from the curled position he has taken on his bed, and stretches. He ties his worn sneakers, and pulls on an inconspicuous hoodie. Opening the old window, he breathes in the cold, crisp air. It's a gorgeous night; the bright, luminescent moon hangs low in the velvety sky. The stars are brilliantly sharp, even to his heightened eyesight.

His mind wanders to the Crypt, and Snow.

It's not just the hunger that draws him, he realizes. It's also the kind, petite girl who shares a part of her life with him. She's never asked for favors in return, and is always kind, polite, and he's found out that she has a simply wicked sense of humor.

She's not Meredith, but maybe that's what he needs, the vampire thinks to himself. Snow is beautiful and understanding, and doesn't seem to mind one bit that he's a bloodsucking beast. The two generally share kisses before the blood exchange, but maybe, there's something just a tad bit more.

He turns on his heel, eager to see her now. He keeps his mind on her face, not her blood, but then the memory of the _taste _enters his head, then his tongue. Something inside of him snarls and drags its claws against his stomach and chest.

He doubles over and bites back a cry. The hunger is back, full force. Staggering, he stands, and catches his face in the dingy mirror.

A pale, dark-haired young man stares at Vlad. The young man's eyes are shadowed by heavy bruising, and are faintly glowing purple. He blinks, and the violet light is gone. Messy hair fringes the heavy brows, and ever-so-slightly curls at the ears.

Turning away, the young man disappears, as Vlad lopes down the stairs.

"I'm going out, Nelly," he calls. "My phone is on; I'll probably catch up with Henry later!"

His aunt makes a distracted, approving noise from the depths of their house.

"Come back before midnight!"

"Yup."

And Vlad is running down the street, towards the hunger and blood he so desperately craves.

* * *

The club is hot and dark. The rushing thuds of nearly a hundred pulsing heartbeats nearly sends him into a frenzy. It's all he can do to keep his mouth shut and avoid the heady scent of blood pounding through people's bodies.

A girl takes his arm, and he relaxes, letting her pull him onto the strobe-lit dance floor. Arms encircle his neck, and draw him in. He breathes in the wonderful scent of her blood, A negative. He kisses her neck, and runs a hand through her shoulder-length hair, when he stops himself suddenly.

This is not Snow, but simply a random Goth girl. He breaks away, and untangles her long arms from his body.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, before running off. The girl--who was, to tell the truth, quite adorable--pouts, but he doesn't care. He won't feed off random strangers, like a Hollywood monster. Only Snow, he tells himself. He slumps into a random chair, trying to calm down. His fangs throb in his mouth, and he knows that he needs her, right now, before he does something horrible.

The music is loud and obnoxious, worming it's way into his head, enabling thought. Another set of hands tug at his arms, and now he looks up before blindly following another random girl.

"Hey, stranger," Snow smiles. He almost melts, right there, because that smile is for him, and it's genuine. She is okay with his monstrous ways, and she lets him survive off her own blood. "Hungry?" She asks, and leads him to the door to the alley. They step into the darkened street, and her fingers tighten around her own.

His head has begun to fog, and he barely knows what he's doing as he gently but firmly presses her up against the crumbling brick wall. He reaches down and kisses her, parting her lips with his own. Forget chaste, sweet kisses. All Vlad knows is that he _wants _her, and maybe a bit more than just her blood. Hot, dark kisses, as deep and bittersweet as dark chocolate. Her tongue grazes his fangs, and he feels the beast shudder. The claws sink into his stomach, and he parts her hair from her neck.

She lets out a small gasp before he sinks his fangs into her soft, white flesh.

Vlad doesn't even have time to think as he struggles to suppress the creature from taking control. He's drinking, and enjoying every drop of Snow's wonderful blood, but also trying his hardest from enjoying it _too _much. For that's when he's vulnerable enough to let that…thing, that murderous beast take over. Seconds before her heart begins to flutter, he stops, and steps back before shakily wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Snow hasn't fainted this time, but she is wobbling as she leans against the damp wall. Vlad watches from the distance as the wound on her neck closes up, leaving a faint bruise. Almost as an unconscious reaction, she pulls her hair back over her shoulders, hiding her neck.

"That was…fun," she quips lightly, and beckons for Vlad to come closer. He does so, mindful of the satiated beast that has curled back up inside of him.

"I'm trying to stay in control," he says, staring intently on the flickering streetlamp. "I don't want to hurt you, not again."

"I appreciate that," Snow whispers, and she twines her fingers around his again. "But I do know that you need to feed, and that it's getting harder for you to stay away for so long."

"Two weeks is fine," he replies, and he knows that she sees clearly through his lies.

"It's not, Vladimir, and you know it." She looks up at him with those big, soulful eyes. He can't help but tell her the truth when she's like this.

"It _hurts, _Snow, going so long without your blood," he whispers. "It's clawing at me, trying to make me a monster. But I can't. I won't become a monster. There has to be a better solution!"

"You need my blood," Snow tells him, slowly and calmly. "And if two weeks is too long, then maybe once a week is better."

"Snow…" he starts, warningly, but she butts in.

"Vladimir Tod, I care way too much for you to watch you suffer like this! Vlad, I know I'm your drudge, bound by some weird vampire magic, but tell me that the way I feel for you isn't the result of the same weird magic."

He blinks. "I don't think so…"

"Then see! I _care _about you, Vlad, and I know you care about me too. So let me do this for you. Every Saturday, from now on. Meet me here, at the Crypt, okay?"

Vlad feels himself nod, and he kisses her once, on the cheek, before he lets her leave. She dances away, back into the club, with it's pulsing light and music. He sits on the cold asphalt in the alley, contemplating all that was revealed this night.

_I might be turning into a monster, but I need her blood now once a week. _

_Snow loves me too? _

With a heaving sigh, the vampire stood up, and began the slow walk to Henry's.

* * *

**A/N: **sooo.... how was it? want to tell me? then, my lovely vlad-loving friend, let me steer you in the direction of the magical review button, all decked out in a wierd green sort of color. click it, and all of life's answers will be revealed. well, not really, but you may get a cookie! 3


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I am Auntie Heather and I own everything! LOL JK I'm GreenEyes and I am a horrible writer who hasn't updated in forever.

About that... I am so very sorry that this update is ridiculously too late. After a very busy sophomore year and a horrid case of "How the Hell Should this Story Go-itis", aka writer's block, here it is. And I really do want to thank you all so very much for reviewing and faving and subscribing, it really means a lot to me and you guys are amazing and kind and I love you so much and I hope you forgive me for this delayed chapter three.

I also hope you like it... a couple of you requested Vlad reacting with other people, including Henry, and to add some attempt at humor. I hope I did a decent job... *Hides under blanket*

* * *

"Henry, I've got to tell you something."

This is how it begins, sitting cross-legged on his best friend's bed, hugging a grey pillow like a life-raft. Vlad takes a deep breath, and tries to continue.

"I'm…God, Henry. I can't…Okay." He closes his eyes tight for a second, trying not to burst into frustrated tears. That would be completely lame, and so not what he needed.

"Dude. Just spit it out already. I'm dying over here." Henry's attempt at humor grounds Vlad, and gives him the strength to continue.

He focuses on the spot directly over Henry's head-a calendar flipped to the month of October-and goes on. "Here's the thing. You know the girl Snow, the one I hang out with at the Crypt? Well, I'm sort of feeding off of her blood. It started accidentally, you know, but she encouraged it and one thing sort of lead to another and so I've been drinking her blood every couple weeks for about three months now, and I want to stop, I promise, but I can't and I think I'm losing myself along the way."

He takes a gulp of air, and bows his head, unable to look at Henry. Because his best friend is surely staring blankly with shock, his eyes filling up with horror and disgust, and he probably won't want to see Vlad ever again, because he knows now that Vlad is a monster, no better than any other vampire.

"Wow," Henry says after a while. "Um, wow." Vlad hears how Henry takes that Deep Breath, and braces himself. "Well, that's pretty awesome. So how hot is she, exactly? Like, on a scale of one to ten, Mrs. Rae from third grade to Jessica Alba. C'mon, man, I need _details _here."

"Dude, I'm not dating her, I'm sucking her blood!" Vlad cant believe Henry's reaction. This is so typical of him. Can't he see how serious this is? Vlad's turning into a _monster. _"I don't even know who I am anymore, Henry, the-the bloodlust or whatever it is, it's taking control, day by day! I don't know if I'm doing things for me or for the thing inside of me!"

"Well, there's that. But I know who you are, for Pete's sake. C'mon, Vlad, d'you think I'd still be your friend if you were some crazy-ass vampiric mass-murderer?"

"Henry! Seriously, man. You gotta know how bad this is getting. Just a few days ago, Nelly hugged me before I went to school, and I almost bit her. Almost bit _Nelly_! I love her, okay. She's the closest thing I have to a mom, and I wanted her blood. It's like saying I wanted to stab her and watch her bleed to death, so that I could quench this undying thirst!" Vlad finds that he is pretty much yelling, and he closes his mouth abruptly, hoping that Henry's parents haven't heard anything. He realises they are out to dinner after he presses the saggy pillow to his mouth.

"C'mon, Vlad. Stop being so melodramatic. It's only Snow you're feeding off of, and you've got her consent, and it's not like you're _not _a vampire or anything. You're okay, man. I promise. You're my best friend, and I can tell that it's going to be okay." Henry shoots him a small smile, and Vlad wants to believe him so badly.

"But I do I know? How do you know? I could be lying through all of this. You just don't know, Henry. _I _don't know. And I'm scared."

There is a long silence, in which Vlad scrubs a hand angrily over his eyes.

"Vlad? Man? Okay. Um. _Man. _Look." Henry is obviously having trouble finding his words, and Vlad winces.

"No, it's not like that. But have you tried talking to Otis about all of this? I'm really not the kind of guy to be analyzing vampy problems. And you sound really serious. But I can tell you one thing, and it's this: I know who you are. I know that you're my best friend in the world and I'd never let you change into something that you're not. I swear." Henry grins, and then chucks a video game controller at him from across the room. "But for now, you're my zombie-slaying partner in crime, got it?"

"Got it."

* * *

After several hours of good ol' fashion beheading and buckets of gore, Vlad feels ridiculously thirsty. He guesses, too late, that all the blood-n-guts, probably made him hungry. Like when Henry's mom watches the Food Network, and suddenly Henry has a craving for fish tacos. But instead, Vlad's starving for some AB negative. Vampire munchies. The thought is part scary, and part hilarious. He swallows nervous laughter bubbling in his throat.

Henry gives him a weird look. "You all right, dude?"

"Yeah. Sorry." And because he promised to tell Henry the truth, Vlad adds shakily, "I'm hungry."

"Great! 'Cause I am too. Um, how about ramen for dinner; my mom's out with my dad, and you know I don't know how to cook." Henry grins, but the grin falls as Vlad's hand passes over his stomach. The thing inside Vlad has awakened, and is dragging its sharp claws across his stomach and throat.

Suddenly Vlad is hyperaware of everything around him. It's like his vampire senses are on overdrive. Every sight is sharper, but with a curious dulling of color. Except for red. The bright red of the soccer jerseys from Henry's poster makes Vlad painfully aware of the lack of red everywhere else. He takes another breath, and can _taste _Henry's sweat in the air. The traffic outside is obnoxiously loud, and someone is pounding against the door. Too late, Vlad realizes that it's Henry's heartbeat. Louder than ever, and, if Vlad is hearing properly, just a bit faster than normal.

Henry is scared.

Vlad is scared, too. He wants to know why it feels as if he's _hunting _Henry, as his feet drag across the room, towards a promise of blood and a satisfied hunger. Like a vampire, but Vlad isn't a normal vampire, damn it. He _won't _be. There has to be a decent option other than 'from the tap'. Being the Pravus _sucks _if you can't chose who you want to be.

"No. No no no no no…" Vlad finds himself on his knees, doubled over as his stomach and throat burn cold inside of him. His fangs are heavy in his mouth, throbbing. They are like ice, though. Freezing cold until blood warms them back up.

"Vlad, dude, what's happening?" Henry has begun to inch forward, and Vlad feels a warm hand on his shoulder blade.

"No!" Vlad snarls, and stands up, ridiculously fast. "Please. I just-in my backpack. There's a water bottle. _Please." _

Henry seems to understand, as he walks carefully past Vlad and hands him his backpack. Vlad scrambles around for the water bottle, shoving past English homework he didn't do, a math project worksheet that he'll never do, and various pencils and scraps of god-knows-what.

His long fingers find the water bottle at the very bottom, and Vlad gratefully downs its contents, finally himself enough to remember to not spill any on his mouth or t-shirt. When will "okay" be enough?

"You all right, buddy?" Henry's voice is hesitant and small.

"I'm okay. Thanks," Vlad says, and he means it. Even though he's still hungry, he's okay for now. But when will okay be enough? "So, ramen?"

He's grateful when Henry grins again, as they race downstairs, pretending nothing ever happened. The ramen is sticky and awful, but they eat every bite. And as the night goes on, and Henry is asleep on the couch, and Vlad is curled up on the recliner, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, and dials a familiar number.

* * *

**AN: **a tiny little cliffie, more like a hill or a speedbump than a cliffie... feedback is appreciated, and even if it is to tell me what a horrid author i am, for making you wait this long for this crap... at least it tells me you still care(d). :]


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